Perceval: The Epic Poem
by Hippy Hobbit
Summary: (Perceval and the Fisher King) He was told not to ask questions of his superiors... but... sometimes there are just things you have to do. This version is taken by Chertain de Troyes version of Perceval and the Fisherking and put into the form of an epic


Perceval: The Epic Poem 

_An omen from across the sea,_

_This bizarre, wondrous thing, what can it be?_

_Friend or foe, this mysterious flask,_

_You'll never know unless you ask._

__

_A child-knight rides north from his lands,_

_They call him the fool- he'll not understand._

_He was born to be nurtured, his Mam held him close and near,_

_Safe from all worry, and every sort of fear._

_But just as no one can stop the sun from setting with their one hand,_

_A mother cannot stop her son from growing to be a man._

_This knightling went to join the leagues of his Lord,_

_Wanted to be strong, have a lady, castle, and horde._

_And although his Mam was still saddened, she wanted him shrewd,_

_So she told him, "Don't ask questions- they'll think that you're rude."_

_But still, he'd try for King and kin,_

_He'll prove he is no fool, and then he will win._

__

_But Fate reaches her hands to ice his sweet breath,_

_This innocent child, near exhausted to death_

_His horse's step is heavy and dogged,_

_His eyes are tired and his thoughts are bogged._

_He wants to sleep, to rest his fair crown,_

_But the lands are quiet and all Hope seems drown._

__

_Then a rustle on the water, the splash of a paddle,_

_A man with an oar and a man with a tackle._

_He calls to the men in the name of his Christ,_

_Asks for a place to sleep, any will suffice._

_The man replies back, his house is upon the ridge,_

_There's no place to cross, no land or no bridge._

_He'll have to wait until morn's first light,_

_But until this time, he can rest there from his plight._

_The boy thanks the man and he rides towards the place,_

_A new Hope in his head and a new light on his face._

_He'll eat good food tonight, good bread with good lard,_

_He'll sleep tonight, and he'll sleep long and hard._

__

_But he crosses the ridge and then up over the hill,_

_To find with a discontent that can kill,_

_No house can he see, and his eyes do see well,_

_So he curses the Fisher and he damns him to Hell._

__

_But being a knight, he is undaunted still,_

_And so he rides and rides on over that hill._

_The lands soon grow weary, life sucked from its vein,_

_No people are around, no cattle or grain._

_Until his fine eyes with the sight of a owl,_

_See soon the rise of a giant tower._

_Beautiful it is and it makes his heart thud,_

_He pushes his horse to make it to through the mud._

_A young boy meets him there and takes away his steed,_

_While another hands him a new cloak, and another leads him to his feed._

_They enter the hall, so ostentatious,_

_So magnificently grand and incredibly spacious._

_The knight is surprised because the land seems so poor,_

_The people'd be hungry and their stomachs would roar._

_But before he can finish what he is thinking,_

_He is lead to the Great Hall, where a great crowd was drinking._

__

_The food smelled so fine that it made his mouth water,_

_And the heat from the fire warmed his cold face hotter._

_A smile was about to come, but then a frown crossed o'er his face,_

_Across the room lay the Fisher on a bed, with pillowcases of lace._

__

_The man beckoned him close and asked him not to take regard,_

_He was sick, but the knight shook his head- he'd not take it hard._

_But just then, to distract their attention asunder,_

_Came along a sword, made by lightening and thunder._

_This sword the fisher gifted to the knight,_

_Saying it'd be more useful to him in a fight._

_They turned back to their light talk once again,_

_Asking more questions, friend-to-friend._

_The night grew long, but they stayed up still,_

_The feast was to die for and the wine could kill._

_But then, quiet filled the halls as something came a-new_

_A beautiful girl carrying what the strongest could not do._

_A golden goblet flashed in front of the young fool's eyes,_

_Questions came to his mind, but his courage failed to rise._

_All eyes turned to the stranger, filled with hope and joy,_

_But their wishes were lost in the asinine mind of a boy._

__

_The knight would not ask a word of this rule,_

_All hope is lost in the eyes of a fool._


End file.
